In 2007 I was serving as a minister in the New Apostolic Church with the office of evangelist. I was responsible for caring for two congregations in the San Diego area when I was given the mission of caring for a third congregation located in Anaheim.
After a few months serving in Anaheim on Sundays, I wanted to make an effort to grow even closer to this new congregation. To accomplish that, I scheduled myself to serve the congregation on a midweek evening service. This plan required an earlier than usual departure from home due to traditional traffic conditions on the trip from San Diego to Orange County.
On Tuesday prior to my journey, I received a call from our priest in the Anaheim congregation. He advised me that a member named Harold Haase, who had not attended services for many years, was near death due to a severe illness. He asked if I wanted to take the opportunity to visit this man in the hospital prior to the service on Wednesday. When I heard his name I was moved to answer in the affirmative. I knew this man’s family very well, though had never met him. I especially wanted to visit Harold because his name indicated he was from my home town, Garfield, New Jersey and considering his age of 79, most likely knew my parents.
Early Wednesday afternoon I took to the road wending my way through heavy traffic northward on Interstate 5 toward Los Angeles. I wondered what to expect when I met Harold. I prayed that in some way I would be a blessing for him and that my visit would make a difference. I easily found the freeway exit. From there it was just a brief drive to the hospital.
I parked my car in the hospital parking area, but before leaving the car I prayed again and sought the guidance of the Holy Spirit. I really did not know what to expect meeting Harold especially considering his physical condition. Even though I knew his twin brother John and another brother Henry, I was not aware of Harold’s existence or the circumstances surrounding his estrangement from the church.
I knew Harold’s brother John because some years before I was caring for a small mission congregation in Mission Viejo where John regularly attended. I got to know John quite well, but he never mentioned that he had a twin brother.
I also knew Harold’s brother, Henry, because he and his wife Ethel attended our Vista congregation form time to time. Henry and I had a deep friendship partly due to our roots in New Jersey and his knowledge of all my family there.
After my prayer, I exited the car and made my way to Harold’s room. I entered the room clad in my black suit white shirt and black tie. I greeted him like a long lost friend, “Harold!”
He looked at me surprised and responded, “Who are you?”
I answered, “I am Allan Musterer.”
Quickly and excitedly he said, “Sampson Street? Garfield, New Jersey Musterer?”
I said, “Yes, I am Eddie’s eldest son.”
Still excited he said, “You’re Eddie’s son! What are you doing here?”
I said, “I am a minister in the New Apostolic Church. As you are a member of the spiritual family, I felt compelled to visit you considering your terminal illness and imminent passing.”
Harold rather forcefully responded, “Let me tell you why I don’t come to church, and haven’t done so for all these years.”
With that pronouncement, Harold proceeded to tell me his story.
When Harold was about 7 or 8 years old, he and his family lived in Garfield, New Jersey on the same street as many of our church families including many of my family. He and his brothers often went to play at the Pump House, the nickname kids gave to Dahnert’s Lake, a large pond at the end of the street. One Saturday Harold and his brothers were doing just that when some bullies came by and gave the boys a hard time. One of them started pushing Harold around and pushed him into the pond at the deepest end. Since none of the boys could swim, Harold floundered and quickly submerged not once but twice. Gripped in fear of death as he went under the second time, Harold believed he would never come up again.
Harold’s twin brother John at their house on Sampson Street early 2000’s
As Harold related this part of his story, I found myself feeling very close to him. I pictured this incident he described clearly because years after Harold’s days there, I lived just a few blocks away from where Harold did. I too played at the Pump House all year round, so I was able to relate to his story with familiarity and empathy.
The “Pump House” in Garfield, New Jersey
Harold continued his story.
Since none of the boys could swim, it was fortunate an adult nearby saw what was happening and ran to rescue Harold. He successfully pulled Harold from the water and saved his life. A grateful Harold, wet and dirty, shook and trembled in fear as he stood surrounded by his brothers. The man who rescued him urged him to return home immediately so he could get dry and cleaned up.
Still rattled by his near death trauma Harold ran home with his brothers. As they travelled homeward, Harold thought, “When I get home my mother is going to be so happy that I didn’t drown she’s going to welcome me with open arms and a motherly hug.”
Harold’s parents were more financially endowed than the other church members. They were a joyfully generous family and invited families from church for Saturday dinner and Sunday lunch. Such was the case this particular Saturday. Harold’s mother was busily preparing Saturday’s dinner in the kitchen while the boys were out playing.
Harold reached home with high expectations of his mother’s warm welcome, considering the harrowing experience he suffered facing death by drowning just moments before. To Harold’s surprise, when his mother saw him all wet and dirty, she immediately reprimanded him and sent him to the bathroom to wash up and get dressed. After all, they were having guests for dinner very soon and she had work to do. Without another word she immediately went back to work preparing the evening meal.
Harold was shattered. He felt unloved, blaming his mother for not hugging him and welcoming him home. He blamed the church because his mother seemed to love the members more than him. He made up his mind that as soon as he was old enough, he was leaving family and church behind and going alone into the world.
The unfolding story gripped my senses; I silently prayed and asked my heavenly Father, “Please give me something positive to say to Harold, considering his experience and his near term death?”
I listened intently as Harold finished his story. He was exhausted and gazed teary eyed and expectantly into my eyes. I began speaking words that surely were heaven sent, for I spoke of things I did not know.
I said, “Harold! Consider this: Your whole adult life has been a long series of joyfully generous help and support for those who were in need, those who you helped. Someone came to you out of work and you gave them a job. Someone was living with their family in their car and you put them into a motel till they regained their footing. Another was about to lose their house and you made a mortgage payment. They all were in need of work, of money, of health, of encouragement. People who came into your life with needs and you stepped up and graciously and effectively fulfilled them! The pain of your disappointment in childhood created a heart of generous charity. You became what your mother and father lived! What a wonderful example your life has become! To all those people you were a blessing.”
Harold sat there in his bed, eyes wide open, mouth agape.
“Wow!” he exclaimed, “I never saw it that way!”
The tears rolled down his face as I stood there surprised at what I had just said. I had no knowledge of his life after his story ended.
I said, “Harold, would you like to pray together? I can pronounce to you the Absolution and we can celebrate Holy Communion together if you would like.”
He said, “Really? We can do that?”
I said, “Yes we can.”
Graciously he accepted my offer.
I prayed a short prayer and then together Harold and I prayed the Lord’s Prayer. I pronounced the Absolution, consecrated the elements and we celebrated Holy Communion. I offered the benediction and thanked God for the experience we shared.
We spoke a while afterward and I prayed with Harold one last time before I left.
A few days later, the priest from Anaheim visited Harold. He asked the priest to conduct his funeral service. Shortly thereafter Harold passed on. The priest conducted the funeral a few days after Harold passed on.
After the funeral the priest called me with an amazing story. He said that following Harold’s funeral service, all manner of people who attended testified of how Harold saved them from the tragic circumstances of their life. Each explained details matching those I had enumerated to Harold in his hospital room that Wednesday afternoon. What a testimony of the truth of my words to Harold in response to his story. Surely it was God who answered my prayer and Harold’s need to reconcile.
Turning Point
Reflecting on this experience, I realized how devastating a misunderstanding can be on the life of a child. Harold was shattered by a misunderstanding. His mother had no idea what trauma her son had suffered; neither did she know his expectations. Her conduct was not a deliberate act to cause her son pain or disappointment. Harold never said a word to his mother until many years later, carrying the cross of misunderstanding for years. Years of pent up anger were suffered before he reconciled with his mother.
We can see how such disappointing moments can cause deep hurt. But a different view, in this case only in long distance retrospect, can show that even painful moments can have a significant blessing on one’s life. Harold’s life became defined by the pain of his disappointment and caused him to reject family and church. Yet, his character was defined by this moment and he became a gracious, kindhearted and sensitive man. He was a real blessing to many people and families.
There are circumstances that may not allow for us to replace a misunderstanding with understanding. Sometimes the situation cannot be resolved as with Harold and his mother. My turning point was the realization that we are better served if we learn to look past the pain of the moment, and see how the event can prove to be a blessing. Then we can leave the pain and its burden behind us and glory in the benefits of the blessing.
COPYRIGHT © 2014 ALLAN EDWARD MUSTERER ~ All Rights Reserved
What an amazing experience of faith this was for all concerned. From not knowing Harold to the feeling that I had known him all my life, even though I grew up 40 miles South of Garfield and had never met him before our first encounter prior to this event. I had known John, and known of the kindness he had shown to others during the course of his life which was well known by people all over the USA. John had worked for the company that hired me, resulting in my relocation to Orange County. Little did I know that Harold had been the same outgoing, kind soul to so many until the day of his funeral. I am so happy that this hurt and burden was released prior to his passing, and that this experience can be shared.
Bob You were Harold to me on many occasions Thank you my Friend…. Were They related to Fred Haase?
Yes, Fred was the 4th brother.